


A Big Boy Did It And Ran Away

by RueRambunctious



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Backstory, Dark Past, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24594154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RueRambunctious/pseuds/RueRambunctious
Summary: Sebastian Moran finds himself in a remand home during the Eton summer holidays. He is expected to curb his misbehaviour, go back to school, and never look back.Jim Moriarty has been in and out of institutions during his whole sorry existence, and he knows that he is going nowhere in life without a university scholarship in his future. He might have to settle for blackmail and scheming, but that's alright, because he's had plenty of practice at both.Jim has lost a lot in his life, and he's taken plenty too. He doesn't expect that an entitled rich boy on a temporary nasty holiday can change everything and nothing all at once.
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Kudos: 6





	1. The New Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst I certainly headcannon Jim and Seb as having miserable pasts, I don't tend to make it the main setting of a work. I thought I had written all of this sort of thing out of my system years ago, way before AO3 when I predominantly wrote angst and darkfic. Nowadays, I like growth and happy endings. I've seen enough suffering you know?
> 
> Buuuuuut this fic idea just will not go away, so I had to write it. 
> 
> It is not set in a particular time period, but is instead a mishmash of things which have stuck with me over the years, in environments that have the potential to create little Jims and Sebs and 'damage' and persistence. 
> 
> This is still a romance, but it might hit differently from what you're used to from me. Please consider this your warning, and tread carefully. Here be demons, and I'd rather they didn't bite you.

There is such a loud fuss when a new one gets brought in that Jim abandons his scheming and the relative safety of his hidey-hole to take a look.

Jim does not ordinarily care about the thugs and brats that come and go, other than keeping a careful detail on them for his own physical wellbeing, but there have been whispers about the new boy that make Jim intrigued. He is never particularly interested in the low tones in which the adults exchange the juiciest information about the inhabitants of this place other than their potential for later use blackmailing or otherwise manipulating things, but the hushed tones of late have been curiously tense.

Something unusual is going on, and the adults have been all but thrumming with their investment in the current situation all day. The bad things which usually happen have dried up overnight, and Jim has heard enough to know that the staff are not expecting an inspection. A big enough rule is being broken today that even the nastiest of those in charge dares not take any other risks.

Which suits Jim, for the time being, since that takes the attention away from him, but also keeps his peers unsettled enough that they haven't dared pick up the slack.

None of those idiots have bothered paying enough attention to know what's coming, but they have the sense to keep their heads down on a day when the adults are on high alert. Bad people rattling with tension have a habit of snapping suddenly, and no one wants caught in those rabid jaws.

Which leaves Jim in relative peace to survey the chaos unfolding below.

Jim knows what the whispers say: rich boy; _titled_ daddy. Sent here for a good shock to the system during the summer holidays, and there are more than a few lined pockets and favours owed and threats veiled and otherwise to have twisted the rules for this.

The little lord yells and screams and bellows his fury in a plummy accent unlike anyone else's here, and long before Jim can see the newcomer he can hear crashes and slamming doors and curses from adult voices. Jim creeps closer and crouches by the stairwell for a better look.

What Jim sees is an enormous blond boy with an exceptional tan being restrained by as many bodies as can reasonably press together in the tight space -most of which are unfamiliar- and the new boy is kicking out with exceptional brute strength and accuracy at all of them he can reach.

The boy – Moran, the whispers were – manages to catch his powerful legs on a doorframe and pushes back with a roar. Jim feels his stomach flutter oddly as he watches the blond manipulate his weight into knocking backwards the unfamiliar adults who have Moran's arms pinned, and down they all fall with a crash. Moran does something quick with his elbows, and Jim relishes the twin squeals of pain, and then the new boy is flipping over and on his feet and knocking another strange adult down and someone grabs his arm and he twists it with an audible crack of theirs and this time there's a scream and Jim's stomach feels hot and wet and drunk-

And then a man in a suit punches Moran directly in the gut, with all the force of a man who does not give a fuck about causing internal bleeding, and the boy with the golden skin and golden hair crumples with his lips gaping like a carp fish.

The little lord staggers and tries to push the swarm of adults from himself, swinging a few weak punches, but he's quickly overwhelmed. The unfamiliar adults tackle Moran to the floor whilst the remand home staff look on white-faced, and Jim frowns as he feels a peculiar surge of disappointment.

Things must be getting truly boring around here if Jim is feeling emotionally invested.

Moran grunts as the stout man with the army officer bearing and fucking stupid moustache lands a truly nasty kick to beneath the new boy's ribs, and then a lighter one to the underside of Moran's jaw which snaps the thing into the teen's skull smartly.

The home staff don't know what to make of it, but not one of them makes a move to stop it happening. Not even the softer ones. They look afraid of the red-faced man with the moustache.

Two of the unfamiliar adults heft Moran to his unsteady feet, and another two men move in to help restrain the blond before he can fully raise his fists again.

The blond spits blood onto the cheap flooring.

The moustached man swipes his hand across the side of Moran's head with so much force it can only be personal. In the aftermath of the ringing sound made by the blow echoing around the space, a crisp English snarl demands, “Where are your manners?”

“Must… have forgotten… to pack 'em… in the hurry...” responds the new boy in a pained but stubborn voice dripping with hate.

The man backhands Moran this time. It's just as loud as the first blow, and Moran's teeth clack audibly yet again. Normally one of the nicer staff would interfere by now when violence like this happens in the open. There'll be no teeth left at this rate.

“You keep a respectful tongue in your mouth, boy,” the moustached man growls. Jim peers down at the odious creature and compares the adult's features to that of the new boy. This has got to be the blond's father, Lord Moran, if those shoulders are anything to go by.

“Or… what? You'll leave me … in another country… with a bunch of strangers?” the new boy pants. His words are slurred wetly and Jim can almost _feel_ Moran's rising urge to spit more blood – this time on the man's expensive shoes.

Lord Moran leans in close. His features are scrunched with rage. “If you don't mend your ways, boy, I might never take you back! You can say goodbye to Eton and your whole future!”

Young Moran snorts derisively and bubbles of bloody spit are so red on his lips that Jim can see them from upstairs where he is peeking through the spindles of the bannister. “Go on then, abandon me. Good riddance!” the blond replies.

Lord Moran snarls, and Jim tenses at the unmistakable sing of the man's belt buckle being unfastened.

Jim glances to the staff, who don't normally practice or condone much violence when in a mixed crowd as they are just now – a few of those workers below have never raised a hand to him or any of the other kids – but not one of them protests.

The more sadistic ones don't lend any encouragement either. Whoever Lord Moran is, he has enough power and influence to intimidate all of the staff, and some of _them_ have friends in very high places.

The adults stand there and watch as the moustached man has his employees manoeuvre young Moran around, not that the new boy is bothering to struggle now, and the sound of the belt cracking across the teen is loud and peculiar enough that other kids come out of their rooms to have a wary peek. They weren't bothered by the yelling and the thudding, but beltings never take place in the open space of the landing where just anybody could walk in. The floor down there is in full view of the front door should anyone care to open it, and people tend to be warier of beating you where anyone can see these days.

Moran says nothing, and keeps his silence for the first three swipes. His beating continues until he's hissing and wincing, and only increases in severity until he eventually cries out.

Jim's stomach is in knots and he is too distracted to question it. The blows continue, and some of the other kids go back to their rooms whilst some stay and whisper to each other. Jim focuses on the spindles of the bannisters he is crouched against. He mentally catalogues each groove and whorl, each chipped remnant of resin long since picked away and the numerous pockmarks of age and rough usage.

There are tears running down Moran's face when the boy's father finally tucks his belt back into its loops. Jim can see the light catching on the glimmering tracks. The new boy does his best to mute his snivelling however, and other than a few wet sniffles and the irregular pace of young Moran's breathing he hides it well.

“Let that be a lesson to you, you spoilt brat,” Lord Moran says. Jim picks at a bristle from a paintbrush long since trapped between the wood and its various layers of varnish and paint like an insect in a tomb of amber. That phrase is a familiar one around here.

“I blame the parents,” the new boy mutters bravely. Jim's fingers still. He's got half of the bristle separated from the wood.

“Say that again, boy, I dare you, and see what you get!” Moran's father hisses. “There's plenty of grounds out there and I will gladly take a switch to you before I have a nice little hole for you dug up. I'll have you buried here and no one will say a word!”

“Peace for you at last!” young Moran says with mocking, faux pleasure. His nose explodes in red with a sickening crack as the moustached man punches it.

Jim's fingers disappear from the spindles entirely.

“Now reabby, howb arb you goingb to exblain dis?” the young blond enquires. “Mub always habes it when you go fob my fabce.”

“Your mother's not going to see you for months, if at all. If this isn't enough of a wake up call and you don't pull your socks up at school I'll leave you there to board over the holidays; see how you like that!” Lord Moran says without a hint of remorse.

“You'b boke id, you ibiot; ib's going doo-”

Lord Moran flicks his son's red nose with a fat finger. “You're the idiot if you think I even need to explain this away as a rugby accident or your usual scrapping. You are mine, and I own you, and I can make or break you as I damned well please, Sebastian.”

Sebastian Moran's eyes cannot help but water again at the fresh sting of his poor nose. Nonetheless he manages to keep the quaver from his voice as he coldly responds, “Fuck. You. Sir.”

Lord Moran rolls his eyes and turns to his still-silent audience of remand home workers as he examines his cuffs nonchalantly for stray flecks of his child's blood. “As you can see, you have got your work cut out for you with this miscreant.”

The staff stare at him in silence for a while, then one or two start to stumble over assurances about how they have dealt with 'difficult boys' before, and what a good facility this is.

It's fucking lies: Jim knows this is a terrible facility because he has been in plenty. The place is understaffed and those that do work here are underpaid, ill-equipped for the complex needs of the 'difficult' kids here, and have very little time or energy to sufficiently corral said kids, never mind nurture them. The few bleeding hearts in this place are traumatised, exhausted and hardened; the rest are sadists who almost invariably have a penchant for abusing those in their care (and even some of their colleagues).

The adults talk some more, and eventually they agree to have young Moran 'settled in' in one of the high security rooms as he is both a flight risk and proven to be violent. Lord Moran makes a point of loudly slapping his son's rear in a belittling and threatening fashion as the blond is dragged away. Jim notes that the young Moran is going to need that scrappiness and those very broad shoulders if he doesn't intend to let such treatment signal to the others in here that he is fresh meat.

There is already frantic whispering from upstairs and Jim knows he really ought to sidle back out of sight before any of the bullies notice him now that the show is over. However, a few of the staff remain with Lord Moran, and they talk in hushed tones that don't carry well but exude a certain salaciousness that it seems prudent to overhear.


	2. Danger and Risk

Jim Moriarty makes it his business to know things. He especially makes it his business to identify risks, and as such knows that Gordon, Archie and Liz are the most dangerous of the staff, not only because they are all quite willing to have a pop at you, but because they enjoy doing it. Fat Michael from the kitchen isn't adverse to swiping a heavy paw in your direction if you annoy him, but much like a bee, if you leave him be he'll do the same to you.

That cannot be said for Gordon, Archie or Liz. Gordon is vicious but charming, and together those are dangerous because he has friends in high places, and he does so enjoy having them over to visit. Archie is less adept at toying with people, but he's a brute, and no matter what Gordon's guests want to do Archie is never the one to say, 'that's enough.' Liz likes both power and games. She's only adverse to hitting you hard across the face when she's pretending to be nice in front of visitors who almost invariably end up not being so nice at all. She preens and giggles when police chiefs and holy men and councillors call her 'an angel' and over their shoulders as she embraces them she shoots the teens here dagger-like glares of threat.

Liam's not much of a delight either. He does not hit as much as the aforementioned do, but he's never inclined to lift a finger to help anyone. He's bitterly resentful and selfish after losing his job as a police officer from being left in disgrace following taking the blame for an affair with his powerful boss. Worse still, he still has buddies on the force that he puts in touch with Gordon. The only saving grace of Liam's presence is that he doesn't care enough about anything to get on anyone's case, and more importantly, he has enough enemies in the force now that he's willing to veto certain Bobbies from Gordon's parties.

The rest of the staff are somewhat impotent, if not entirely useless. Alison actually cares about the resident kids' welfare, having grown up in the system herself, but she is a single mother with young children she is adamant won't end up swallowed up by the state. It's been made clear to her that she'll lose her job if she complains too much, so she looks the other way too often and tries to jolly the involved kids up afterwards. Jim has no patience for that, but he'll take her guilt trinkets when it suits him.

Jim has even less patience for Max, the trainee not much older than the incarcerated teens. Reasonably good-looking and open-hearted, this job has been Max's ruin. The young man is regularly abused by Archie and has been an anxious wreck since his first 'invite' to Gordon's sordid get-togethers. Max is a kicked dog, and whilst he never preys on anyone else, he never dares raise his head never mind his voice in opposition to the others.

The only staff member Jim has any respect for is Charlie, who is not only vocally defensive of the institution's inhabitants, but even puts herself physically between them and their would-be aggressors. She's done her best to report things to anyone who will listen, which admittedly causes more trouble than it solves, but Jim forgives that fuss when she's the one ensuring he doesn't have broken ribs or internal bleeding.

She's been muzzled recently however. The higher ups have something on her, but Jim has been unable to discover what. The non-binary care inspectorate person with the shaved head and kind eyes who gave Liz a knowing look and a threatening handshake hasn't been back either.

Finally there is Brenda, Fat Michael's wife, who clucks about in a vaguely motherly fashion on the rare occassions she is around. She's good for a bit of extra food and perhaps a buffer, but little else.

The new boy, Sebastian Moran, is still in solitary, so presumably he knows none of this so far. The blond is traditionally attractive from what Jim has been able to see of him, and there's a great big question mark currently hovering over whether that misfortune will seal his fate, or whether Moran's evident scrappiness, bulk and bloodline will be enough to protect him.

It took a whole personal security team to subdue the teen earlier, but Archie likes the ones that are harder to break. The weak kids never last long in here, or, indeed, in many of the other places Jim has been placed.

Still, it always leaves Jim abuzz when there's a new intake. It takes some of the attention off of him. Although, kids who fight are trouble. They upset the status quo, bringing down the wrath of the staff on everyone, and they tend to look for an easy target for their frustrations.

Jim is often seen as an easy target, and whilst he is sure to take his vengeance in creative ways, he is not enthusiastic about being the whipping boy once more.

Moran is also going to have to watch his step if he doesn't want to find himself near the bottom of the pecking order in here. He looks to be bigger and even a better fighter than the current top boy, Ollie, but that doesn't count for much yet. Everyone's heard Moran take a hiding, and here each resident has long since learned to kick someone new when they're down.

Jim finds himself impatient to see how Moran's fate will unfold. The boy is likely to be a bully, but that does not mean the brute won't be fun to toy with, and Jim is oh so bored.

Still, Jim knows he must be cautious. This life is full of danger, and beyond the obvious risks the Moran boy poses to Jim's welfare, there is also the subject of Moran's parentage. The Lord Moran seems like a nasty piece of work with even more power here than the usual rich and powerful bastards who visit, and that is something Jim will keep a healthy notice of.

It's simply a matter of survival.

Jim wonders how long Moran will remain in a high security room. The real danger in here, Jim has personally found, is getting bored with such a big brain and such meagre stimulation. He doubts that will be the same for the new boy. It hasn't been for anyone else.

Jim finds himself sitting on the little-used back staircase from which he can hear any footsteps coming or going in the direction of the new boy's room.

The worst danger in here is becoming at all invested.


End file.
